Within the hour, signs of civilization came into view. Compared to Kellek’s Watch, a town that essentially ended within steps of the main street, the city limits of Revenshore were vast.
As The Flea skirted the coast, Wellynd stowed away his worries about the events that transpired that morning, leaning on the handrail and drinking in the sloping hills of verdant green that soon gave way to pasture, the density of trees replaced by occasional cows and roaming flocks of sheep. Those pastures eventually turned to fields of wheat, terminating in farmhouses and grain silos.
Every time Wellynd visited, he swore that a new batch of silos had been built. It wasn’t uncommon to see dozens of workers laying brick from atop scaffolding, bronze helmeted soldier’s watching on from below.
Wellynd heard Leofer grunt from behind him as they passed a site where several large warehouses were nearing completion, dozens of men standing atop the roof frames, hollering back and forth at each other. He turned to see a disgruntled look on the Leofer’s face as he leaned on the helm.
“Not a fan of the new buildings or..?”
Leofer nodded “Not if they’re killin the people who built ‘em, no...”
Wellynd raised his eyebrows “What do you mean? The workers are paid, no?”
Leofer stared out towards the sea.
“A pittance; I’ve talked to a few men who’ve taken the ferry. That’s not the problem. Life’s hard, you gotta take what ya can.”
He paused.
“I’ve lived in this world for a long time, lad. I’ve seen a lot of folks with power do a lot of awful things. Good things too, mind you. But I’ve never seen an army build up their resources so quickly to ‘help everyone out’. Verta’s not takin over this side of the continent for nothin’”
Wellynd frowned, “ You think they have plans for us? What are they gonna do? Kill all of us?”
Leofer shrugged “I don’t know what they’re planning on doing. They’ve told us they want to unite us. I don’t know why they need more soldiers here to do that. There have been no major revolts here for almost two years now. Sure, the rebellion has caused a ruckus here and there, but why do they need so many garrisons? So many arms warehouses? They have enough grain in those silos to feed a whole army.” He took another long drag of the cigarette, the crackle of the burning paper filling the small room. Then he grinned, “Then again, I’m just an old Illuvian sailor. Maybe they’re just stocking up their supply lines for their battles in the west.”
He winked “What do I know about the world now. Best you don’t take my word too seriously.”
Wellynd chuckled before turning back to face the passing warehouses, unsure how to respond. He stared at the few soldiers pacing back and forth, their burnished bronze helmets glowing in the morning sun. Two of them were laughing, another group of four were standing around the shore, using their spears to help a worker lift something out of the water.
Would they really hurt the people they’d spent the last two and a half years living with?
A vision of Klent’s calm face with his arm poised and ready to strike flashed in his mind.
From what he’d seen, the man was an outlier. Most of the Vertan soldiers he had met, like the captain on the road or Klent’s commanding officer were generally respectful, if a bit gruff.
Sure, the Vertan forces were still fighting on the other side of the continent, but the Artan government had always been a mess anyway, and Western and Eastern Arta always felt like two separate places.
Wellynd’s train of thought was interrupted when the boat rounded a small peninsula and the city proper came into view.
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Nestled in a calm bay, Port Revenshore had been the centre of trade on this side of the continent for as long as anyone could remember. The city stretched close to a league across the landscape, outcroppings of buildings curling their way onto the two sides of the bay.
Split into two distinct sections, the “New Town” dominated the majority of the city. The buildings, although varied in size and ornament, were all made of a light brown terracotta stone, their roofs flat, many of which had gardens or banners sitting atop them. The tallest, most impressive buildings sat farthest from the shore, atop the ridge that sloped down toward the water where the docks lay.
Wellynd squinted at the broad strip of road that ran up the city’s centre, where the large jant-powered conveyor sat. It was the central thoroughfare and was used to transport goods from the many inbound ships. A line of people had formed in front of it, each holding a crate or barrel, placing it on the great belt before walking alongside it up the long set of wide steps that led to the top of the ridge.
To the left, on the south side of the city, sat the “Old Town,” whose dark charcoal stone starkly contrasted with the vibrant brown of its newer counterpart. The buildings there were much more varied as well; domes and spires dotted the horizon.
Wellynd always stood in awe at the haunting beauty of the Old Town, and had often wondered what mysteries those crumbling towers had kept secret from the world...
Or, in some cases, still held.
“Looks like we weren’t the only ones caught in the storm” called Leofer. Wellynd turned and followed the Captain’s outstretched finger.
A sandy coloured Trireme bobbed in the water fifty yards away, its mast toppled over, the Melyin flag fluttering hopelessly against the deck while crew members in bright yellow tunics scurried about.
Wellynd’s eyes scanned the storm battered ship before wandering to the shore beyond it. Atop the hill, like an umbral sliver shot into the landscape, sat a fortress of awesome proportions, built entirely of black stone, its bronze and black flags hanging from the battlements.
Fort Gravician. Port Revenshore’s newest landmark. The place where Klent was taking Jensen. Not anymore.
The Flea shifted back and forth as Leofer expertly weaved around the small fishing boats that had taken refuge from the storm, and pulled into a slip marked with the Illuvian flag. A lone soldier sat on a bench near the end of the dock, standing up as Wellynd jumped off the boat with a mooring line in hand.
“Hiya, Dev” yelled Leofer.
The soldier threw up a friendly wave and tied off the rear. Leofer clambered over and let down the plank, hobbling across it.
“Just got one passenger this morning. Tried to beat the storm by leaving early. We barely made it” huffed the old Sailor, patting the soldier on the shoulder.
“Yeah we’ve had a few folks moor up on the northern docks. Looked like a rough one, even from here.” Dev eyed Wellynd up and down “You’re back eh, Welly? Why don’t you just live here at this point?”
Wellynd laughed “I wish I could. But looks like it’ll be a while before I’ll get that chance.” he held up his hand and flashed the soldier his Kosun mark.
Dev nodded “Ah. Well, welcome to the club. Hardly means anything these days.” he said. “Well, if it’s just Welly here then my job is done. How long are you staying?”
Wellynd scratched his forehead. “I’ll probably stay the night and catch a ride back first thing tomorrow morning.”
Dev nodded again and, without another word, walked back over to his bench, plopped down and stretched out his arms.
Wellynd couldn’t imagine having to sit there all day; it must be so boring. He turned to Leofer, who was watching the sailors on the dock across from them unload barrels of Yellow Skippers, a few managing to wriggle free, bouncing off the dock before landing in the water.
“So. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Leofer turned, staring at him for a moment, his eyes searching the boy’s face. “You’re gonna be alright then?” he said quietly.
“Yeah. I’m good.”
Leofer took out another cigarette and lit it with a match that seemed to appear out of thin air, never taking his eyes off Wellynd.
He took a long drag.
“You’re a good lad, Welly. You did the right thing. Keep that in mind. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”
Nodding to Dev, who gave another casual wave, Leofer ambled back across the plank and pulled it up. Wellynd unmoored the boat and threw the rope onto the vessel before giving a helpful shove. He heard the jant hum to life and watched for a few seconds as Leofer turned the boat around and headed back out to sea.
“See ya, Dev” Wellynd said, before walking down the dock towards the city, the wooden planks clanking with each step.